Bible Kiss Bible
by Silverlane
Summary: It's the day after Thanksgiving and Lane and Dave are just getting started.
1. Default Chapter

_So this is all fiction, yadi yadi yada, Gilmore Girls is owned by the WB, I am merely borrowing the characters to tide me over until they start playing new episodes.  This story takes place in season three, the day after "A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving."_

Bible Kiss Bible 

I am trying to stop thinking about him.  I am trying to stop smiling.  I am trying to focus on what Rory is saying, but it's hard.

        "…so then he says 'Happy Thanksgiving, Jess' and walks away.  Can you believe it?  I mean this is Dean we're talking about.  _Dean_. It's so not like him."

        "Well love makes you do crazy things," I offer, thinking of how much trouble I would be in if Mom found out about Dave and me.  I smile- Dave and me.  Pairing me with a guy sounds so strange.  _Me_.  Lane Kim.

        "You're totally not listening to me," Rory says.

        "I know," I say. "I'm sorry, I just can't get him off my mind."

        "Good kiss, huh?" Rory asks, smiling.

        "Well, I don't really have much to compare it to."

        "I think you guys are adorable.  _He's_ adorable," Rory says.

        "Who's adorable?" Jess asks, materializing at our table, refreshing Rory and mine's coffee.

        "Dave," Rory says. "Jealous?"

        "Out of my mind," Jess says, grinning at Rory.  It's the first time I've ever understood her attraction to him, Jess is beautiful when he smiles.  Maybe she's right, that there is something more to Jess than meets the eye.  Or maybe I'm just overflowing with love right now.

        "Sit down with us," Rory says.

        "Gimme a minute."

        I watch him walk away, still smiling.  A couple weeks ago he was skulking around town with Shane under his arm, now he's floating around the diner.  I understand.  I know what it's like to want someone so bad you crave them.  I know the joy of a surprise kiss.  I know how it feels to find out they want you back.

        Rory is talking again and I rope my focus back to the diner.

        "I just feel awful that Dean saw me kissing Jess this soon after the breakup," she says.

        "He's a big boy, Rory."

        "That's what Jess said.  But still, I hate that I flaunted it."

        "It was bound to happen eventually.  You're doing the right thing.  Jess is who you want to be with."

        "Hey guess who just walked in the diner," Rory says.  I turn to find Dave standing in the doorway, scanning the late lunch crowd.

        "Dave!" I holler, waving.  He grins at us and begins pushing through people.

        "He is love-buzzed," Rory whispers, giggling.

        "Shh," I hiss as Dave pushes his way to our corner table.

        "Hey guys, what are you up to?" he greets us.

        "Picking up guys," Rory says.  I blush.

        "You better not be," Jess interjects, pulling up a chair next to Rory.  Dave and I exchange looks.  Do we kiss hello?  How does this work?

        "Jess this is Dave, Lane's boyfriend," Rory says, speaking our relationship into existence. "Dave, this is Jess."

        "Nice to meet you, man," Dave says.

        "Yeah, same here," Jess answers.

        "How did you know I was here?" I ask.  He takes a seat beside me.  The moment for a hello-kiss has passed.

        "I asked your mom."

        "My mom?" I repeat.  Rory laughs, leans against Jess.  She says it's hard for her to adjust to the difference of Jess and Dean's bodies, that she doesn't fit as neatly under Jess' arm as she did Dean's.  This is comforting to me.  It's nice to know that Rory is still figuring stuff out too.

        "I told her you wanted to borrow this," Dave says, flopping Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis on the table.

        "Did you _buy_ this?" I ask.

        "Yep."

        "Let me pay you back."

        "Lane," Dave says, rolling his eyes. "You forget I'm a rich man, thanks to that flyer you up in your church."

        I blush.  His fingers lace through mine under the table.

        "I was addicted to the Chronicles of Narnia series in third grade," Rory says, picking up the book, flipping the pages.

        "Big surprise," Jess says, poking her in the ribs.

        "You can borrow that if you want," I tell Rory.

        "No she can't," Dave says. "You need it for our study group."

        "Our what?"

        "The study group I told your mom about.  The one that meets every Friday night in Hartford to discuss Christian inspired literature."

        "You're kidding," I say.

        "Nope."      

        "We can finally rehearse!  I can stay in the band!"

        "And your mother asked me if I could drive you since you don't have a car," Dave says.

        "You're a genius!" I cry, so out-of-my-mind-excited I kiss him.  Dave grins, I grin.  

        I think this is love.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

        Who am I and what am I doing halfway out my bedroom window?  My sweater is caught on something and I tug at it, suspended between my mother's rules and the world outside.  Just as I'm wondering if this is God's way of telling me to stay in my bedroom and go back to sleep, the stray nail relinquishes its hold on my sweater.

        Dave is out there, sitting on the bridge, waiting for me.  The moon is round and deep red, adding to the unorthodox evening.  It began this afternoon at the diner after Rory and Jess abandoned Dave and me.  

        "I want to see you before next Friday," Dave said, earnest eyes intense on my face.

        "I'm seeing you right now," I said.

        "Can you sneak out tonight?"

        "Of my house?"

        "Yes."

        "I don't know," I stammered.

        "Can you try?"

        If only he wasn't so cute, if only he didn't like me so much, if only _I_ didn't like _him_ so much.  

Now I run along the barren streets of Stars Hallow, remembering last night when I was running to return Dave's bible to him.

        "Wow, you run really quietly," he had said.  Later it made me giggle, but last night I was too anxious to find anything humorous.  And 24 hours later, here I am again, running toward him.

        He is already sitting on the bridge, jeaned legs swinging.  I slow my pace and try to stay in the shadows, taking advantage of the opportunity to observe Dave without him knowing.  He looks up at the red moon and begins maneuvering his fingers into the shape of guitar chords.  I wonder what song he is thinking of.  

        A sneeze creeps up on me and discloses my location.

        "How long have you been back there?" Dave asks, hand over his heart.

        "Not too long," I say.

        "What were you waiting for?"

        "Nothing.  I was just watching."

        "Watching me?"

        "Yep."

        "Trying to find out if I'm a nose picker or anything?"

        "Something like that," I say, smiling as I take a seat next to him, our hips touching.

        "Well, hi," Dave says, leaning in, kissing me.

        "Hi," I say.

        "Thanks for sneaking out."

        "You're welcome," I say. "It's the least I can do after that elaborate lie you told my mother."

        "You're worth it," he says, calloused fingertips touching my cheekbones, sliding through my hair. "It's really thick," he observes.

        "Yeah," I say.  Not very intelligent sounding, but it's all I can think to say when he's touching me like this.

        "And really soft, like silk."

        His hands tangle in my hair.  Something deep inside my stomach stirs, a feeling that makes me yearn to touch and be touched.  I pull him toward me, balance my body against his, explore the shape of his waist as we kiss.

        "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever kissed," Dave breathes. "Of course you're the _only_ girl I've ever kissed, so I could be kissing your mom and say the same thing."

        "I'm your first kiss?" I ask.

        "Yep.  Why?  Is that surprising?"

        "A little."

        "Am I your first kiss?" Dave asks, sounding amused.

        "You can't tell?" I ask.  My hands tremble against his hips.  His hands quiver inside my hair.  Thank goodness we can blame it on the cold.

        Dave just smiles, pulls me up against him.

        "I want to talk to you about something," he says.  My breath catches.  Did I say something wrong?  Am I a bad kisser?  Is he breaking up with me already?

        "What?" I ask.  I try to sound nonchalant but my voice comes out in a wavering whisper, causing Dave to laugh.

        "If you could only see your face," he laughs. "You could pass for Irish."

        "What do you want to talk about?" I insist.

        "Lane, lighten up, it's nothing serious."

        "Well, then don't use such serious terminology.  Everyone knows 'I want to talk to you about something' means you want to talk about something bad.  Usually breaking up."

        "I didn't mean to scare you, I just really do want to talk to you about something.  It's nothing bad," Dave says, grasping my hands with his.

        "Okay," I say, reigning control over my heartbeat.

        "It's good to know you don't want to break up with me though," he says with a boyish grin.

        "Of course not," I say, blushing, lowering my eyelids to our linked fingers.  Then I remember that he still has something he wants to talk about. "What did you have to say?" I ask.

        "I really want you to meet my parents."

        My face freezes.  Is he serious?  He looks serious, or as serious as Dave is capable of looking with his floppy hair, but he _can't_ be serious.  He wants me to meet his parents?  His parents who have probably always imagined him with a petite career-oriented girl who could make money while Dave made music.  A petite _blond_ career-oriented girl.

        "I…I can't," I stumble for words.

        "Why not?"

        "Because."

        "Because why?  They would love you."

        "No they wouldn't."

        "How could they not?" he asks.

I am silent but Dave understands.

"It's different at my house, Lane.  Your family has such a strong hold of their roots that being Korean is important to them.  My family is Scotch-Irish, English, Polish, and a mishmash of some other stuff.  Nationality isn't as big of a deal to us as it is to your family."

        I sigh, squeeze his hands.

        "I wish I could share you with my family," I say.  With Henry, I had no desire to tell my parents about him, too afraid that they would take him away.  But Dave is different.  Dave is making it clear that he's not going anywhere, that my big, scary Korean family can't shake him away.

        "Someday," Dave says.  He runs his fingers through my hair again, looks at me like he thinks I'm beautiful.

        "Okay," I say, sighing. "I'll meet your parents."

        "Good.  Now come here."

        And he fixes his arms tighter around me and kisses away my logical thoughts.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

        "I'm thinking about having sex with Jess," Rory announces.  

        "What?" I say, snapping out of my Dave induced fog.  

        A couple weeks ago when Rory told me that her and Jess were dating, I'd known that this day was coming, I just expected her to have this talk with Lorelai, not me.  Rory and I talk about boys, but we never talk about sex with boys.  I have no idea how to respond to her.

        "I don't know, Jess and I kind of started talking about it the other day.  He was asking me how far Dean and I went," Rory shrugs, casual as if we're just talking about homework or TV.  Watching her propped up against the headboard of her bed, it's difficult to imagine her having sex.  There's no question that she's beautiful, but she's so…unshakeable.  Or she used to be.  I suddenly feel like I did back when she first started dating Dean, like a train came by and picked Rory up while I stood at the platform and watched her ride away.

        "How far did you and Dean go?" I ask, trying to not let it bother me that she told Jess first.

        "We didn't do much," Rory says. "Just fooled around a little bit.  Nothing below the waist."

        She's blushing, which somehow makes me feel better about the whole conversation.  It's reassuring that she doesn't feel any more confident about her sexuality than I do about mine.

        "I thought you didn't want to have sex until you were out of college so there was no risk of interrupting your education," I say.

        "I know, I know, but I was like fourteen years old when I decided that.  That was also when I thought I would wait until I was thirty to get married."

        "Yeah," I say, remembering the way Rory was back then, before Dean took notice of her.  She was so focused on getting an education, so determined to not repeat Lorelai's mistakes.

        "What do you think?" she asks.

        "About Jess and you?"

        "Yeah."

        "It's kind of fast, isn't it?  I mean you've only been together like three weeks."

        "But I've known him an entire year," Rory says, and I know right then that she's already made up her mind.  It's just a question of when.  What's the right thing to say?  My entire life I've been told that sex is something intended for only married men and women, but I can't say this to Rory.  

        "Are you sure he's clean?" I say instead.  It's a question I never thought I would have to ask Rory.  I always imagined her falling for some clean-cut lawyer who took her on vacations all around the world.  I should have known that her mother's bad boy yearnings would bubble to the surface eventually.

        "What?" Rory says, clear eyes flashing from the pages of her biology text book up to me.

        "You know…clean.  Of diseases and stuff."

        "Lane," Rory says, sounding tired.

        "Why is that such a stupid question?"

        "So you think that just because he was raised in New York he's some kind of man whore?"

        "I didn't mean it as an insult, I'm really sorry," I say. "I just saw the way he was Shane and I thought that there might have been others."

        "He's had sex but he's always been really safe," Rory confides.

        "That's good," I say.    

        We're quiet for a while.  I try to imagine Dave and myself sitting down and talking about our physical relationship but it seems too implausible.  I can't even think the word 'vagina' without blushing.

        "So you think you're gonna do it soon?" I ask.

        "I don't know," Rory says, frowning into her spiral notebook and erasing something. "We'll probably take it slow for a while, just kind of stretch stuff out."

        "That's a good idea," I say. "It's not like you're pressed for time."

        But I wonder if she'll follow through with making Jess take it slow.  Jess has a way of shaking up Rory's best laid plans.  She can deny it all she wants, but I know he's one of her big reasons for wanting to stay in Connecticut and go to Yale.

        "Oh crap, it's 3:00," Rory says, glancing at her alarm clock. "I have a Franklin meeting."

        "On a Saturday?" I ask.

        "Well, it is Paris," Rory says. "I'm so sorry."

        "No forget it, I'll catch you later."

        I take my time walking home.  It's freezing outside, but I'm in no hurry to be around the retail flurry of our house on Saturdays.  I walk through the Gilmore's neighborhood and down Peach Street where I find Dean in his driveway shooting free throws.

        "Hey!" I call out, before I can even think that maybe Dean doesn't want to talk to me.

        "Hey!" he calls back and I cross the street. "What's up?"

        "Nothing.  I'm just on my way back from Rory's."

        "Ah," he says. "Don't tell her I asked, but how's she doing?"

        "Fine," I say.  It's probably a bad idea to mention that she plans on having sex with Jess.

        "Good," Dean says, nodding his head. "Good."

        "How are you?"

        "Oh, I'm good.  You?"

        "Good," I say, which is a lie.  Last night I sat on the bridge and felt Dave run his hands through my hair, I'm better than good.  Way better.

        "D'you have a good Thanksgiving?"

        "Yeah, real good," I say, grinning.  Dean looks at me quizzically and I can't help but tell him.  I want to tell everybody. "I got my first kiss."

        Dean smiles but his eyes are a little misty and I know he's thinking about his first kiss with Rory, or maybe his first kiss ever, and I feel a pang of guilt.

        "You deserve it," he says, always the good guy. "Dave?"

        "Yes."

        "Are you guys together?"

        "As together as Mrs. Kim allows," I say.

        "Wow, that's really something.  That's great, Lane."

        "Thank-you," I say.  We both stare at the ground for a moment, feeling uncomfortable.  I debate with myself for a second or two before saying, "Look, I'm real sorry about Rory and you."

        "It's alright," Dean says with a shrug. "It was nice while it lasted."

        "Hopefully you guys can be friends eventually."

        "I don't know that Jess would go for that," Dean says.

        "Jess isn't really the jealous type," I say, then realize I probably shouldn't be defending Jess to Dean.

        "He may not be jealous, but he knows how he got Rory and it's not likely that he'll just sit back and let me try the same thing."

        "I'm not sure," I say.  I feel uncomfortable in this whole situation, unsure of whom my loyalty belongs to.  Rory was wrong to act on her feelings for Jess when she was with Dean, but she's still my best friend.  Jess should have left Rory alone when he found out she had a boyfriend, but at the same time he really cares about her and wants to make it work between the two of them.  Dean and I have been friends for a long time and I have a lot of respect for him, but I don't want to see him trying to worm his way between Jess and Rory.  

        "Well, I doubt this thing will last with Jess and Rory anyway," Dean suddenly says, dribbling the basketball.

        "You do?"

        "Yeah.  They're too different.  He's so angry and she's so…Rory.  I think she'll get fed up with his authority problem.  He'll get tired of her, it'll fizzle."

        "I don't know, maybe," I say, but it's not what I'm thinking.  I'm thinking about the way Jess was in the diner yesterday, barely letting Rory take a sip out of her coffee before he refilled it.  I'm thinking of the smile on his face when he bantered with her.  I don't think Jess is in a hurry to be done with Rory.  If anything, I think he's worried that he's just a phase for Rory and that she'll be wanting to move on.

        "I better get home," I say. "See you Monday."

        "Yeah see you Monday," he says.

        As I walk up to my front door, I see Dave poke his head around the side of the house.  I grin, and after checking to make sure Mom isn't watching me, I sneak around to him.

        "What are you doing here?" I hiss.

        "I needed to see you, that's all," he says.

        He kisses me, leaning his body into mine, pinning me between the house and himself.

        "I can't believe you drove all this way to see me," I say, loving the way he surrounds me.

"Actually, I'm meeting Jess in a couple minutes."

"Jess?" I repeat.

"Yeah.  You say that like it's weird."

"Well," I say, remembering Dave the first day I met him- argyle sweater and audio geek tendencies.  I try to imagine how a conversation between the two of them would go, Dave speaking in excited bursts and Jess saying nothing at all. "I guess it's not real weird," I lie.

"We'll just be listening to music.  If you can get away that'll be great."

"I'll try,' I say.

"Try hard," Dave says, touching his forehead to mine.

I'm moving my hands through his thick hair when I hear Mom calling my name from the front door.

        "Lane?"

        "What?" I call, pushing Dave off of me and tearing around the house.

        "I saw you coming up the steps then you disappeared."

        "Oh, yeah," I say. "There was a rabbit in your garden, I was shooing him out."

        It scares me how easily lies slip out.

        "Rabbit!" Mom hollers, pattering down the front steps.

        "No, no, I took care of it, you don't need to go back there," I say, throat going dry as I think of what she'll do to me if she finds Dave loitering in our bushes.

        But he's already hightailed it out of there.

        "Doesn't look like it got much, good timing on your part," Mom says.  She studies my face.  My lips are probably bright red.  My hair is probably tangled from Dave's hands. 

        "You okay, Lane?" Mom asks.

        "Yes, fine."

        "You look flushed."

        "Just all the excitement," I say.  Technically not a lie.

        "You eat pizza at Gilmore's?"

        "No, Mama, of course not."

        "Ice cream?"

        "No, just water I promise."

        "Okay, you come inside now."

        I follow her into the house, frustrated with my double life.  I'm not use to being so complicated.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

        Monday morning I discover that getting dressed is harder than it used to be.

        "I have nothing to wear," I whine to Rory when she answers the phone.

        "Lane?"

        "I hate all my clothes."

        "It's okay, just calm down."

        "I can't calm down," I say. "I hate that he does this to me, that he turns me into one of these self-conscious clothes obsessed teenaged girls."

        "Dave?"

        "Yes, Dave!  Who else would I be talking about?  No one!  Because I'm obsessed!"

        "You are hardly obsessed, Lane.  With Dave or with clothes."

        "I want to look nice," I pout.

        "You will, you always do.  When are you seeing him?"

        "Later tonight.  Him and Jess are getting together again and he wants me to stop by.  And of course I have nothing to wear because I'm ugly and all my clothes look bad on me."

        "Calm down, Lane.  Deep breath," Rory instructs.  I hear the banging of her dresser drawers as she searches for some lost piece of her uniform. "Now there has to be something in your closet that is conservative enough to get passed your Mom but cool enough to make you look normal."

        "No, there's nothing."

        "Lane, you have to work with me."

        "There is nothing in this closet that I like Rory.  Used to I didn't even care, but now thanks to Dave I've warped into a stupid teenage girl.  I might as well buy the Justin Timberlake CD and mourn the break up of him and Britney."

        "This is completely natural, okay?  When Dean and I first started dating I was a wreck when it came to doing my hair and picking out clothes and all that stuff.  It's going to get easier."

        "Lane?" Mom calls from downstairs. "What are you doing up there?  You have school!"

        "I'm getting dressed, Mama!"

        "What is taking so long?  You are thinking too much!  You should not think so much about clothes."

        And I completely agree with her.  Maybe if there were one article of clothing in my closet that she allowed me to pick out I wouldn't have to think so much.

        "Just a second!" I holler, pulling a white oxford shirt from its hanger.  I can button it up all the way to pass Mama Kim's inspection and undo the top two buttons to help me blend in at school.

        "I want to tell my Mom about Dave," I announce to Rory.

        "Wow," Rory says. "That was random."

        "Well I found something to wear so now I can move on."

        "I agree, I think you should tell your Mom," Rory encourages. "I mean, the whole thing with Henry got screwed up because you didn't tell her and it turns out she would have been fine with it."

        "Yes, but Henry was Korean.  I knew she would be fine with him, I just…" I search for an explanation that will satisfy Rory. "I didn't want to share him with Mom…I wanted a part of me that was secret from her."

        "What do you mean?" Rory asks.  Understandable.  How could I expect Rory to understand something like wanting privacy from my mother?

        "Henry was really special because he was the first guy to ever notice me and I guess I was just afraid that by sharing him with Mom she would ruin the specialness for me."

        "How would she do that?"

        I sigh.

        "Never mind, it doesn't matter," I say.

        "Don't get frustrated, I'm just trying to understand."

        "Don't you ever have moments with Jess that are so special and private that you feel as if it would spoil it if you shared them with someone?  Especially someone who you know might not accept your feelings for him?"

        "Yeah," Rory says, voice barely audible.  She understands now. "When Jess showed up at Sookie's wedding…"

        Rory's voice trails off and I tie the drawstring of my khaki pants while I wait for her to gather her thoughts.  Sookie's wedding is never anything we've ever discussed in great detail.  I know a vague outline of events, he kissed her and that's when she decided to go to Washington for the summer.  Other than that Rory has been entirely close mouthed on the subject, until now.

        "He told me I looked nice.  He'd never said anything like that before.  I think the closest thing he ever said was some fumbled comment about my hair looking different.  I know it doesn't sound like much, considering Dean was always telling me that I looked beautiful, but somehow hearing Jess say it was different."

        We're quiet for a second.

        "Lane!" Mom calls.

        "I gotta go," I say, hanging up before Rory can even say goodbye.  I feel guilty.  Here Rory just made herself vulnerable to me and I had to hang up on her.  I'm lucky she understands the way my life works.

        That evening I find her studying at Luke's with a coke and plate of French fries.

        "Howdy," I say.

        "Oh, hey," Rory says, eyes glazed from staring into her textbook for so long.

        "I'm so sorry about this morning," I say. "Mom was getting impatient."

        "I totally understand," Rory says.  I wonder how long it's going to take for her to open up to me again about that afternoon at Sookie's wedding.  I feel a flash of frustration with my mother and the way she is always making me compromise Rory and mine's friendship.

        "How's the studying going?" I ask.

        "Good," Rory says, squeezing her eyes tight. "I think I need reading glasses."

        "Not surprising," I say.

        "I know," she says.  She blinks a couple of times. "You know he's upstairs, right?"

        "Dave?  Yeah.  Why are you down here?"

        "Him and Jess are listening to music.  I hung with them for a little bit but it's kind of hard to study to Tool."

        "Understandable," I say.

        I sit across from Rory and pull out my history book and a legal pad.

        "You're not going up?" she asks.

        "Nope."

        "Why not?"

        "I'm studying."

        "Lane," Rory says, rolling her eyes at me.

        "What?  I have a big history test tomorrow."

        "And you don't have time to just run upstairs and give Dave a little hello kiss?"

        "In front of Jess?"

        "Jess has seen people kiss before, Lane," Rory says.

        "I know, it's just awkward."

        "How is Jess seeing you kiss Dave awkward?"

        "Dave and I have only been together a few days, I don't know that we're really at that point in our relationship yet."

        "What point?"

        "The point of kissing in front of other people.  We have a hard enough time kissing when it's just the two of us."

        "It's not that hard.  You walk upstairs, you knock on the door, you say 'I'm downstairs studying with Rory, I just wanted to say hi,' you give him a little peck on the cheek and you leave."

        "What if it embarrasses him to have me kiss him in front of his friends?" I ask, wringing my hands.

        "Then he's an idiot because Jess does not care if Dave kisses his girlfriend."

        "What if when I lean in to kiss him he turns his head and I'm left looking stupid?"

        "Why would Dave turn his head?" Rory asks.

        "Not on purpose," I say. "On accident.  Like Jess says something to him and he turns his head to respond."

        "I swear to you nothing like that will happen.  And definitely don't worry about looking stupid in front of Jess because the first time him and I tried to kiss it was totally awkward."

        "I thought your first kiss was at Sookie's wedding."

        "It was, I meant the first time we tried to kiss as a couple and not just when I was cheating on my boyfriend."

        Rory's voice is sharp and she averts her eyes from my face to the words of her textbook.  I set my hand on top of hers.

        "Rory," I say.  She brushes away frustrated tears and munches on a French fry.

        "I know that I'm with Jess now and everything, but I still just feel so lousy about what happened with Dean and me."

        "It's okay to feel lousy," I say.

        "No it's not, it frustrates Jess."

        "Why does it frustrate Jess?"

        Rory shrugs and I can tell by the conflicted expression on her face that Jess and she have fought about this recently.

        "He hates that I consider our first kiss a mistake when it meant so much to him."

        "Oh," I say.  I'm not real sure what to say to this.  Dave and mine's first kiss was so magical, so perfectly timed, so desired.  I think I would be crushed too if I found out he considered it a mistake.  But Rory is more aware of her conscience than Jiminy Cricket, I understand why she feels guilty about what happened at Sookie's wedding.

        "I mean, it was a great kiss and everything, the one at the wedding, but still…"

        "It's over, Rory," I say with a shrug. "You and Dean are over and yes you made some mistakes but so did he."

        "No he didn't," Rory says, jaw set in a determined manner. "He was perfect."

        "He was a good boyfriend, yes, but he wasn't perfect.  He shouldn't have let his anger about Jess and you build up for so long, he shouldn't have dumped you at the marathon in front of everyone.  You both made mistakes, Rory.  He's not the victim and you're not the culprit, you're just Dean and Rory."

        Her smile is weak but it's there nonetheless.  She shrugs and readjusts her textbook.

        "Go tell Dave hello," she says.

        "I won't be gone long," I say. "Just long enough to humiliate myself."

        Rory grins, lifts her head.  I see her eyes catch on something behind me.

        "Oh crap, oh crap," she hisses, color draining from her face.  She clutches my arm. "Don't leave me.  Don't turn around."

        "What is it?" I ask, cringing as she unconsciously digs her fingernails into my skin.

        "Dean, he's coming in.  I'm screwed.  Please don't leave me."

        "I'm not going anywhere, settle down."

        "Act like you're studying," she instructs, releasing my arms, hiding behind her book as the door opens.  Now she has me all nervous, I can hardly hold my pen.

        "Hey Rory, Lane," Dean says, standing beside our table.

        "Hey," Rory stammers, barely raising her eyes to him before returning them to her textbook.

        "You studying for Mclellan's history test?" Dean asks, motioning to my book.

        "Not very successfully," I say.

        "Yeah, me neither."

        There's a silence, rigid and awkward.  I try to think of something to say but my mind is blank.  Dean clears his throat.

        "Could I have a moment alone with Rory, Lane?" Dean asks, never moving his eyes from her face.  I don't know what to do.  Rory asked me not to leave her, but I can hardly say this to Dean, especially when he looks the way he does now, on the brink of tears.  

        "It's fine, Lane," Rory says, sensing the reason for my hesitation.

        "I'll be upstairs," I say.  

        I've never been up in Luke's apartment before and the whole idea of it makes me a little uncomfortable.  He's such a private person that being in the very room he sleeps in makes me feel like an intruder.  I knock before I enter.

        "Hey you!" Dave calls.  Him and Jess are sitting on the couch with a pile of CDs in front of them.  The music is softer than I'd expected and I can tell I've interrupted a conversation.

        "I didn't mean to interrupt," I say, blushing.

        "Are you kidding?  I'm glad to see you.  Come on in," Dave stands up to kiss me hello.

        "What's Rory doing?" Jess asks.

        "Oh just studying," I say.

        "Yeah?  I think we had the music up a little loud for her," Jess says.

        "Lane, you've gotta check out this band.  The bass player is a friend of Jess' in New York and they're awesome."

        "Cool," I say.  Dave hands me the CD case, which has a big picture of a cow on it.  I think it's weird for a New York City band to have a livestock picture on their cover.  This is kind of embarrassing, but sometimes at night I get so wrapped up in the idea of being a drummer for a famous rock band that I start designing album covers and costumes.  Sometimes I even stand in front of my bathroom mirror and pretend I'm the lead singer.

        "Well maybe I'll go downstairs and check on Rory," Jess says.

        "No you really shouldn't," I say, fumbling with the case and cringing when it lands on the hardwood floor.

        "Why?" Jess asks.

        "She's just really involved in her studying," I fib. "You know how Rory gets."

        "Lane what's going on?"

        "Nothing, I would just hate for you to walk all the way down there just to get blown off."

        "Lane."

        I sigh.

        "She's with Dean," I say.

        Jess swears, runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing the apartment.

        "He just happened to showed up, he wanted to talk to her, that's all," I say.  Why do I keep talking?  Be quiet Lane!

        "That's cool," Jess says, but the way he's acting is not cool. "Well, I'm just going to happen to wander downstairs."

        "Don't turn it into a big deal, man," Dave warns.

        "Got it," Jess calls over his shoulder, apartment door slamming behind him.  

        I turn to Dave.

        "You would be a lousy CIA agent," he says.

        "This is not funny," I insist.

        "It's okay, Lane, it's not your problem."

        "It is my problem.  Rory's my best friend and Dean is a good friend and Jess is some kind of friend and I hate this whole triangle thing."

        "Shh," Dave soothes, pulling me against his sweater, rubbing my back.  I relax against him and take a deep breath.  Dave has a spicy, sweet smell to him, like nutmeg.

        He tilts my face up for a kiss, then grins and tangles a hand in my hair.

        "You look beautiful today," he says, making me feel foolish for my clothing escapade this morning.

        Dave and I lounge on the couch, listening to the music of Jess' friend's band.

        "I think it's weird that a New York band would choose a cow for the cover," Dave says. "What?  Why are you looking at me like that?"

        I grin, graze his face with my eyes.

        "I had that exact same thought earlier."

        Dave touches his nose to mine and feels my cheek with his fingertips.

"I think we were made for each other," he says.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

        When I am on the bridge with Dave, the real world ceases to exist.  There is no Kim's Antiques, no Rory preparing to have sex, no tofurkey crazed mother.  Here on the bridge there is only Dave and I and the sound of our voices hovering in the night air, mingling with the bubbling creek.  It's addictive, intoxicating, this feeling of freedom.  Maybe that's why I risk sneaking out every night, maybe that's why Dave makes the drive from Hartford, maybe that's why the Connecticut December cold never fazes us, because we're so blinded by our need for each other.  

        I lie on the hollow of his chest, marveling at the comfort of his arms around me.  His slow breathing is a metronome for my heart, allowing me to relax against him.  Each day my quirky relationship fears are fading and I am able to kiss Dave without being so aware of my hands and fingers and tongue.

        "What are you thinking about?" I whisper, my finger tracing obscure patterns on his abdomen.

        "Nothing," he says.  Then he seems to reconsider and adds, "I was wondering where you plan on going to college."

        "Oh," I say, thinking of that morning with Mother and the college applications.  The Seventh Day Adventist School, the Amish School in Nicaragua, the Quaker college in Massachusetts.  "I don't know."

        "Okay," he says.

        "Do you know what you want to study?" I ask.

        "Music, I guess.  Or art history."

        "I've always thought Boston was an appealing city," I say. "But that was back when Rory was going to Harvard and I couldn't imagine living in a separate city than her."

        "This is kind of a stupid question, but is your mom _letting_ you go to college?"

        I can't help laughing.

        "She kind of is.  I can go to college as long as I go to one of her colleges."

        "Which I assume are all religious."

        "You got it," I say.

        "But you'll be eighteen," Dave says.  I wait for him to say more but he doesn't.

        "What do you mean?" I ask.

        "I mean, you're eighteen so you don't really have to do what she wants."

        "Being eighteen doesn't mean I can just do whatever," I say.

        "Why not?" he asks.

        "It doesn't work that way," I say.  I ponder this for a minute. "Does it?"

        "Work that way?  I think it does.  In the eyes of the government, you're an adult."

        "Her and my dad wouldn't pay for anything though."

        "So?" Dave says. "My dad already told me that he won't pay for a major in music.  He told me it was worthless."

        "He's wrong," I say.

        "I know."

        We are quiet for a while.  The cold tips of his fingers graze the exposed skin of my waist, causing a shiver down the length of my body.

        "Sorry, my hands are probably cold."

        "It's okay," I say.  He lays his hand flat against my hip.

        "You can warm it up for me," he says as I nuzzle closer against him.

        "So, where are you going to college?" I ask.

        "Somewhere close to you."

        It's so shocking that I have to sit up.  Close to me?  The expression on my face makes Dave laugh.

        "Well you are my girlfriend," he says.

        "Of like a week," I say. "Not that I don't consider you to be special because I do, but-"

        "You don't have to explain," Dave interrupts. "I know it's kind of fast, but…you're really special.  I mean, how many other girls am I going to meet who can talk to me about The Clash and Beck and The Velvet Underground as extensively as you can?"

        "I…I," I can't find words. "I'm speechless."

        "I see that."

        "I…" I look at my watch. "I need to get home."

        "Yeah, I know.  But guess what tomorrow is."

        "Friday?"

        "Yep.  And our first official date."

        "Of band practice."

        "I'll buy you a coke on the way home or something.  Oh, and we can swing in and meet my parents."

        "Oh, right…your parents," I say.

        "We talked about this, remember?  I thought you were okay with it."

        "Yeah, I'm fine with it, just…nervous," I say.

        "You shouldn't be, they're going to love you," Dave insists. "Now hurry up and get home so you can get some sleep."

        "Goodnight," I say, leaning in for a lingering goodnight kiss.  His mouth, full and cold against mine, makes me smile. "See you tomorrow," I say.

*      *      *

        "Five minutes, Lane!" Mom calls from the front door.

        "Yes, I know Mama!" I yell back.  It is all my mind is capable of thinking right now- five minutes, five minutes, five minutes.  Five minutes until Dave will be here, five minutes until I have to be ready to meet his parents, five minutes to make my hair look good.

        The ends were curling funny, so I've spent the last ten minutes teaching myself how to use a curling iron.  Now the flip of my hair is too perfect, making it look I spent an obsessive amount of time on my hair (which I did) and that's no good either.  Finally I settle on a ponytail, hoping to achieve a sporty, carefree look, which is ridiculous because I'm anything but carefree right now.

        "Lane," Mom says from my doorway, startling me out of my hair obsessed world.

        "What?"

        "Your bible is on the kitchen counter."

        "Why do I need my…" I ask, then remembering the decoy I cringe and say "Oh my bible, I thought you said bicycle."

        "Are you wearing make-up?" Mom asks.

        "No Mama."

        Truthfully I'm wearing clear mascara, but there's no way she can prove that.

        "You look flushed."

        "Oh, just the anticipation," I say.  To avoid looking her in the eyes, I preoccupy myself with brushing my stubby ponytail.

        "You should not be so nervous."

        "I'm always nervous when I'm meeting new people."

        There is a knock at the door.

        "Must be David," Mom says. "You hurry.  It is very nice of him to come pick you up, you should not keep him waiting."

        "Yes, Mama," I say, mentally cursing Dave for being early.  The two of us clatter down the staircase.

        "Hello David," Mom says, holding the door open for him.

        "Good evening, Mrs. Kim.  Sorry I'm so early."

        "Nonsense, right on time.  Lane get your bible."

        "Yes, Mama," I say.

        "What time will Lane need to be home, Mrs. Kim?  'Cause sometimes we just get so wrapped up in our discussions that we lose track of time," I hear Dave ask as I walk to the kitchen.

        "10:30, please.  Lane must get a full eight hours of sleep."

        "A very good idea."

        "Lane?  What is taking so long?" Mom calls.  I'm in the bathroom giving myself a final glance before I walk out the door to meet Dave's parents.

        "Coming, Mama."

        "It is rude to keep David waiting."

        "Oh, I'm fine," Dave says.

        "Please apologize to David, Lane," Mom says.

        "I'm sorry my disorganization has kept you waiting," I say.  Dave bites back a laugh and winks at me.

        "That's quite alright.  Goodbye, Mrs. Kim."

        "Bye, Mama."

        "Drive safely."

        The world of my mother shuts behind us and Dave holds the door of his Blazer open to me.

        "Uh, just kind of shove all that crap to the middle," he says. "Now it's my own disorganization slowing us down."

        "Oh shut up," I say.  Dave grins.

        "I'd like to kiss you," he says.

        "I would strongly advise against that, unless you'd like to witness my mother having an aneurysm."

        "I'll hold off then."

        He shuts the passenger door as I fold myself into his cluttered car.

        "So, serious question," Dave says once we've escaped Mother's prying eyes. "Are you going to tell your mom about me?"

        "I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me that."

        "And what's the answer?"

        "That I don't know."

        "I see."

        "Are you offended?" I ask.

        "No."

        "Okay, good."

        "Well, maybe a little," Dave confesses.

        "Oh…please don't be mad.  I just don't know how to handle this with my mom yet."

        "I'm introducing you to my parents."

        "It's different for you, you said so yourself.  Your parents don't care that I'm Korean.  My mom would care that you're Caucasian."

        "Take a risk, Lane."

        "I just need some more time."

        "To what?"

        "To…you know, see."

        "See what?  If I'm worth the hassle?"

"Dave," I say, rolling my eyes even though what he says is true.        

My heart pounds as he pulls to the side of the country road.  Is he about to break up with me?  Why oh why didn't I just tell my mother?  Just let her disown me and get it over with.  It's not like it isn't coming anyway, with my planned profession of being a rockstar.  Dave kills the car and turns to face me.

        "Look Lane, I'm not going anywhere, okay?" Dave says, voice gentle.  I reach for one of his hands and he laces his fingers through mine. "I know you've been hurt before by someone who didn't want to deal with the relationship between you and your mother, but I'm not that guy.  I'm way too crazy about you to leave just because you're afraid of talking to your mom about me.  That being said, if we want this to be anything long term, I just think it would be better if we told your mom sooner rather than later…okay, what does it mean when you bite your lip like that?"

        "You're crazy about me," I whisper, blushing.  I feel warm all over, my cheeks, my legs, my stomach.  Someone is crazy about me.  Dave is crazy about me.  I think of Rory, when she and Dean were first dating and he was all she would talk about.  It bugged the heck out of me, but now…now I get it.  I want to tell everyone that Dave is crazy about me, that he wants to introduce me to his parents, that he'll put up with my mother, that he plans to follow me to college.

        "I am crazy about you," Dave says, smiling a love-drunk grin back at me.  He pulls my body against his, CD cases and speaker wire pressing against my skin and making painful indentions.  

        When he pulls away, he tugs at my ponytail.

        "I like this," he says. "I've never seen you in a ponytail."

        I dismiss his comment with a wave of my hand.

        "Took no time at all."

        Then he starts his car and we continue our drive to Hartford.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

        I spot Rory seated inside Luke's, eyes glazed and pen paused over the paper of a spiral notebook.  She doesn't even look up when the bell clinks as I enter the diner.  

        "Okay, I'm in love with his whole family," I announce, causing Rory's head to snap in surprise.  She slams her notebook shut.

        "Who are you talking about?" she asks.

        "Dave's family, I met them last night.  His mom is great, she's one of those cake baking, mother hen types who fusses over everyone who walks in the door.  And his dad is so cool.  He reminds me of that guy, that actor guy."

        Rory looks at me blankly.

        "In Independence Day."

        "Will Smith?"

        "Rory!  No.  The president.  What's that guys name?  He's in Independence Day, A League of Their Own, something with Sandra Bullock."

        Rory shrugs.

        "Bill Pullman!" I cry, slapping the table, causing her coffee to slosh. "Oops, sorry."        

        She shrugs again, begins mopping up the coffee with her napkin.

        "Anyway, so his dad looks like Bill Pullman and he's this real laid back kind of guy.  And Dave's brother, Chris, is so cute!  He's in second grade and has this really curly hair and these adorable dimples and…what's wrong?"

        "Nothing," Rory says, voice fake and high.

        "Seriously, what's bothering you?"

        "Seriously, nothing."

        "Seriously, I've known you too long to ever believe that."

        Rory sighs, wads up her coffee spotted napkin.

        "Is it school?" I ask, eyeing the array of textbooks on the table.

        Her eyes catch on something outside the window and I turn to see Dean cutting across the town square, no doubt walking home from work.

        "I gotta go," Rory says.

        "Oh…okay," I say as she knocks over her chair. "Easy, there," I say.  I don't think Rory even hears, she just flies out the door.

        Taking her abandoned textbooks as an indication that she intends to return, I order a cup of coffee and wait.  I plan on sharing with Rory all about Mrs. Rygowski telling me how happy I've made Dave, I want to share with her that Chris took my hand and walked me back to his room to show me his ant farm.  I want to tell Rory about how accepted I felt at the Rygowski's run-down house, how they made me part of the family.

        At first I try to avert my eyes from Rory and Dean, who are now leaning against the gazebo talking, but finally my curiosity takes over and I watch them.  I feel like a trespasser, which is silly because they're standing in the middle of town.  I wish Lorelai were here because she would probably invent a conversation of her own taking place between the two of them, using off color remarks and embellished voices to break the tension.  

        Now Dean is walking away and even from the cheap seats I can tell that he's mad.  Rory's mad too, in her own quiet way, and she chases after him.  My eyes follow them until they disappear behind Al's Pancake World and even after they've vanished I continue to stare.  Minutes pass.  I'm at a loss for what to do.  Do I stay?  Do I go?

        Jess then enters the diner, twirling his car keys around his middle finger.

        "Hey Lane."

        "Hey."

        "Rory here?"

        "Oh…Rory?" I repeat.  I can't let this turn into last time, where my careless words sent Jess flying after her. "Lorelai paged her and she had to go."

        "She coming back for her stuff?" Jess asks.

        "She asked me to pack it up and leave it with you."

        "Okay.  Jeez, you look happy."

        "Well…I'm a happy person."

        "That can't be good for your rock and roll image."

        "I met Dave's family last night," I say.

        "Apparently that went well."

        "It went _great_."

        "Well, good.  Dave's a good guy.  How's your mom feel about all this?"

        "Wow, you've just turned into Mr. Chatty this afternoon, haven't you?" I tease.

        Jess answers with a shrug and a rare smile.  Somehow making Jess smile makes me feel as if I've accomplished something tremendous today.

        "Didn't mean to jinx it," I say and he smiles again. "Mom doesn't know yet."

        "Ah," he says. "Is she ever going to know?"

        "Well…probably on the day that I decide I've experienced everything I want to and I'm ready to just go ahead and die.  That's when I'll tell her that Dave and I are dating."

        "Less social, more pouring," Luke says to Jess, leaning into our conversation. "Hi Lane."

        "Hi."

        "I just got here," Jess says to Luke.

        "Great, grab a coffee pot."

        Luke continues on his way and Jess smiles apologetically.

        "Guess I better get to work," he says.

        "That's fine, I'll just pack Rory's stuff up and leave it at the bottom of the stairs."

        "Sounds good," Jess says. "See ya around."

        "See ya," I say and I begin sliding Rory's supplies together to shove in her backpack.

        It's unusual for Rory to be so careless as to leave her homework lying on a public table.  The Rory I know would protect her hard work with her life, carefully arranging everything in her backpack before taking off.  Something is going on, something Rory doesn't want to share with me.

        And this is when the black spiral notebook captures my attention.  I recall the way Rory snapped it shut when I sat down, as if terrified that I would see what she was doing.  What would be so horrible, so covert, so shameful, that Rory wouldn't even let _me_ see it? Fingers resting on the cover, moments away from betraying Rory's trust, I think to myself _this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong_.  I remind myself that Rory has always told me everything, that if there's something she wants me to know, she'll come to me.  I tell myself that all I'll find is her Spanish homework, or maybe an ugly test grade that she was embarrassed about.

        I flip back the cover, I stare at the words, and an intense feeling of guilt washes over me.

        _Dear Dean,_

        That's all it says.  Just:

        _Dear Dean,_

        That's what I betrayed Rory's trust for, to read those words.  Furious with myself, I close the notebook and shove it into her backpack, then I get out of Luke's as fast as I can.  

*      *      *

        As of today, Dave and I have been hiding our relationship from Mom for an entire month.  It is December 24th and he has just finished playing for the Christmas Eve service.  The two of us are in the kitchen enjoying a rare moment of alone time as he packs up his guitar.

        "You look distracted," Dave says.

        "Oh I'm fine," I say, rinsing out the communion cups.

        "I take it things with Rory aren't any better."

        I sigh.

        "Don't stress yourself out about this, Lane," Dave warns.

        "She's been acting weird for two weeks," I say. "And she won't open up to me.  I keep asking her what's wrong and she just keeps saying 'Nothing,' or 'I'm fine.'  But I know she's not."

        "Maybe she's just stressed about finals," Dave offers.

        "She's not stressed.  Stressed-out-Rory goes through long rants full of fifty-cent words.  Upset-Rory is monosyllabic, and that's what she is.  Monosyllabic."

        "Maybe Jess is rubbing off on her."

        How can I tell Dave that I think this has nothing to do with Jess?  That I snooped through Rory's stuff and saw that her thoughts aren't on Jess these days, they're on Dean?  

        "I guess," I say.  Dave leans on the kitchen counter beside me, close enough rest his hand on my back, but far enough away that if Mom pops into the kitchen we won't look suspicious.

        "I want to kiss you," Dave says, catching me off guard.

        "Shh," I hiss, holding my breath and waiting for my mother to come storming into the kitchen.

        "Come on Lane, it's our one month anniversary."

        "I didn't realize that was the openly-kiss-in-front-of-girlfriend's-mother anniversary."

        "I certainly don't see your mother around," Dave says, pretending to look around for her.  His hands travel down to my waist, lightly prodding me to turn to face him.

        "Dave-" I say, but before I can further protest, Dave presses his mouth up to mine and pins me between the kitchen counter and his body.  By the time I've thought to protest, I have no desire to do so. Kisses before now were warm and friendly, filling my chest and stomach with butterflies.  But tonight's kiss involves more than a friendly butterfly; it's an awakening.

        His thumb presses against my pelvic bone, my hands are in his hair, our tongues twirl in the space between our mouths, and even though my mother is one door away from seeing me, I can't stop. There's a certain thrill in doing something my mother would condemn in the very kitchen where she makes her wheat germ bread, beneath the very roof she has provided for me. A feeling of clarity comes over me, and for the first time I understand Lorelai and the craving she felt to break away from her overbearing family.  I understand what Rory was saying a few weeks ago, about wanting to have sex with Jess.  I understand why a person wants to give away everything to another person, and when Dave and I finally break away and I look into his eyes, I know his feelings match my own.

        "I love you," he breathes.

        And then my mother walks in.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

It's the first time I've ever wished for death.  

Several years ago, I had a crush on my band partner who had amazing hair.  One night as we were preparing to march, he bent over to pull his instrument from its case and my hand (which I swear to this day was possessed) reached out and felt his hair.  And as I ran away in humiliation, I thought to myself "I want the earth to open up and swallow me."  On Monday when I timidly arrived at band practice my band partner and I had a big laugh over it and it turned into a running joke between the two of us.

Somehow I'm thinking this is not going to become a running joke.

There's about two seconds of terrifying silence before Mom begins screaming.

"Lane!" she cries. Then, "David!"

I grip Dave's hand and feel nauseated.  This evening when I was getting ready, Mom came into my room and zipped up my cardinal colored velvet dress for me, making me feel like I was about two years old.  That feeling washes over me again as I stand before her in my patent leather Mary Janes and lace socks.  

"Get out!" she yells at Dave, grabbing his arm.

"Mama, stop!" I protest.

They're all watching, my family, my church friends, their unblinking eyes watch as Mom shoves Dave through the living room toward the front door. 

"You leave Lane alone, you never come back in this house!" she shouts.

"Stop, you're hurting him!" I cry when I see the death grip she has on his arm, but she only holds on tighter. "You don't understand!"

"No, you do not understand!" Mom screams. "I made rules for you to follow and you broke them."

"I'm in love with him!" I shout.  

Even Kiesha, my youngest cousin who is still wobbly on her feet, holds herself against a folding chair and stares at me.  The only thing that makes this kind of attention bearable is Dave.  My eyes latch onto his and draw confidence from the knowledge that we're in this together, that he's not going anywhere without me.

"I love him," I repeat. "So if you're kicking him out of the house, you might as well kick me out too."

I'm not sure what kind of reaction I expected from this statement, but it certainly wasn't for Mom to lunge out for my arm and push both of us out into the crisp December dark.   

"You stay out until you can follow my rules!" she yells.

And then the door slams.

Dave and I stand on the porch in silence, both of us too shocked to grasp the sharp turn we've taken in the last thirty seconds- from animal lust to numb fear.  

The door reopens and out comes Dave's guitar, luckily latched and secure inside its case.  Then the door slams again.

"I think she was aiming for me," Dave says.

"There's a good chance," I answer.  Under different circumstances I might be crying, but I feel strangely empowered.  I stood up to my mom.  I told her the truth.  

"How you doing?" Dave says, hand tentative on the small of my back.  I think he's afraid Mom will burst through the door any minute with a shotgun.  

"I think I'm okay," I say.

"You think?"

"I'm feeling a little numb."

Dave's eyes are on the front door.

"What do you say we get out of here," Dave says. "Just for a little bit anyway, give everyone some time to cool down."

"Okay," I say.

We're silent as we drive, both lost in thoughts of what tonight means for us.  Dave steers through the city and out to the countryside where we wander for awhile.  The cloud covered night and dark fields provide no visual distraction from the night's events and Dave eventually meanders back to Stars Hollow.

"I wish it could be like this forever," I say. "Just you and me…and the decaying Blazer."

Dave smiles.

"I think that would be nice," he says. "Maybe someday."

My body feels warm and needed and possessed by something other than my analytical mind.  I unbuckle my seat belt and settle my head in Dave's lap.  His hand strokes my hair as he steers the Blazer into a parking spot and kills the motor.  

"I love you," he says, and in the dark, quiet car it's even more intoxicating than it was the first time.

"I love you too," I say.

He pushes his seat back and pulls me over on his lap where I sit with my face nuzzled against his neck.  We're parked in the center of town, the long stretch of grass separating us from Kim's Antiques.  All the cars are still parked around my house.  There is no doubt in my mind that they're holding a prayer service for me, begging forgiveness for my soul and that I will turn my back to sin and return home.

It's the idea that they view Dave and mine's relationship as a sin that makes me angry enough to decide I'm not going home.  Lying to my mother was a sin, I concede that much, but being in love with someone Caucasian is not.  Cuddling with Dave in his car is not.  Playing drums for a band is not.  

"I'm not going back in there," I announce.  My voice is harsh and confident and sounds like that of a stranger.  This is a new side of myself, a side I have yet to explore, a side that I am about to embark upon with Dave.  Lane Kim without her mother.

"Okay," Dave says, after a stunned moment. "You can stay at my place, or I'll take you to Rory's, whichever you prefer."

"Yours," I say, thinking of Alien-Rory these last couple weeks, thinking of the short distance between the Kim and Gilmore houses, thinking of the warm Rygowski family.

Dave lets out the breath he was holding.

"Okay, good," he says.  He takes my face in his hands and kisses me before starting the car. "Do you have stuff you need to get?"

And walk into a house of crabby Koreans?  I don't think so.

"No," I say. "We can go by Rory's house, I'll borrow some clothes and stuff from her."

"What, you don't want to live in that dress for the rest of your life?"

"Crazy, right?" I say, smoothing the big velvet skirt.

"Maybe Rory has some shoes you can borrow too," Dave suggests.  I plop my patent leather covered shoes on the dashboard.

"You don't like my shoes?" 

"Oh they're fine if you're a five year old girl, and sorry that just doesn't do it for me."

"Even the ruffled socks?"

"Believe it or not," Dave says, smiling his contagious smile.

The Gilmore house is empty but unlocked.  I page Rory and then set to rifling through her clothes for stuff that I know she doesn't wear very often.  My hands are trembling, but I don't know if it's because I'm in love, scared, excited, or hungry.

The phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Lane?"

"Hi!  Where are you?"

"Luke's…what are you doing at my house?" Rory asks, probably the longest sentence she's uttered all month.

"Mom found out about Dave and I and she kicked me out of the house and I need clothes and I'm borrowing some of yours.  How about this orange sweater?  I haven't seen you wear it in a long time."

"Whoa, slow down," Rory says. "Take the sweater.  Your Mom found out?"

"Yes, and it was not pretty."

"How did she find out?"

"She walked in on us kissing in the kitchen."

I hear Lorelai's voice in the back bugging Rory for details.

"She walked in on them kissing in the kitchen," Rory says to her. "Quiet, I'm trying to find out.  Lane, where are you going?"

"Dave's house."

"Tell her she can crash with us," Lorelai hisses.

"Tell her thanks but I want to get out of Star's Hollow," I say, folding up the sweater and adding it to the pair of jeans I'd pulled out of her bureau drawer.

"She says thanks but she wants to get out of Star's Hollow," Rory repeats.

"Oh, tell her I completely understand," Lorelai says.

"Tell her I know she does," I say.

"Would you two like to just talk to each other?" Rory demands.  There's a scuffle on the other side of the phone and Luke hollers about being careful with the cord.

"Lane?" It's Lorelai.

"Hi," I say.

"How you doing, honey?"

"Fine," I say. "I actually feel kind of…"

"Powerful?" Lorelai suggests.

"Exactly."

"I felt like superwoman when I flew the coop with Rory.  The fear will settle in later."

"I believe it," I say.  The fear is already nagging in my brain but I push it away.

"Listen, upstairs on my nightstand is a photocube.  I keep some cash in there."

        "Oh, Lorelai, I don't think-"

        "Seriously, Lane, take the money."

        "Dave and I are fine, we-"

        "Take the money, it's an order.  And write down the Rygowski's phone number somewhere."

        "I will…thank you."

        "Rory wants to talk to you," Lorelai says and she's gone before I can even say goodbye.

        "Lane, take anything in my closet, seriously.  I never wear any of that stuff shoved in the back, take it all."

        "Can I borrow some shoes?" I ask.  Dave, who has been perusing Rory's CD collection, grins. "And some socks."

        "Whatever you want, just take it.  And call me tomorrow and we'll get together.  And take something to read off my shelf, something light."

        "Thank you," I say. "I better go."

        "Drive carefully.  And call a lot."

        "I will," I say.

        "I love you," Rory says, causing the tears I was trying so hard to contain to spill out of my eyes.

        "I love you too," I say, and then we hang up.  I look at Dave who immediately crosses the room and wraps his arms around me. "They take such good care of me," I say.

        "They love you," Dave says. "You can stay here if you want, if it would make you more comfortable."

        I shake my head emphatically.

        "No," I say. "I want to be with you."

        Dave smiles, holds me tighter.

        "Good, I want you with me too," he says.

        I smile, rub my cheek against his sweater, happy to stand there and be held.

        "Thanks for being so patient with me this last month," I say.

        "Thanks for giving up everything for me," he says.

        "It's a good trade," I tell him. "I think I'm coming out ahead."

        Dave smiles, kisses my forehead.

        "I'm going to call my family and fill them in," he says.

        "Okay, I'll change my clothes."

        "Alright, then we'll hit the road," Dave says.  He exits the room, closing Rory's door behind him.

        I shed my dress and stretch it neatly across Rory's bed.  Then I take off my shoes and socks and set them on the floor.  That dress was safe, I realize.  It was safe because when I was wearing it, I didn't have to make decisions for myself.  I was who my mother wanted me to be.

        No longer am I afraid of who I am, of who I want to be.  I am Drummer Lane, American Girl Lane, Cheerleader Lane.  I am ready to pick out my own clothes and determine my own bedtime and get red highlights in my hair.  I'll make mistakes, I'm sure of it, but it's about time I started living my life.

        As I dress, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror of Rory's vanity.  I stare at myself, at the way Rory's sweater stretches over my torso and her jeans hug my hips.  With all my internal changes, I'd expected my exterior to warp as well.  I thought I would look more confident, more mature, more sophisticated, but I don't.

        I look like Lane.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

        I am craving my childhood, something I never thought I would do, but here I am lying in a strange bed wishing I were five years old again.  Back before Dad began traveling so much, back before I tasted the kind of freedom Rory had at her house, back when I was content to spend my evenings in Mom's lap as she read to me from a book of bible stories that her mom had read to her as a little girl.

        My eyes are nearly swollen shut and prying my eyelids apart only reminds me that my surroundings are unfamiliar- Dave's bedroom.  I begin crying, or did I ever really stop?  Dave's pillowcase is crusty, not soggy, evidence that at some point the crying at least paused.  I keep my eyes open long enough to read the clock- 6:27 a.m.  My head throbs with dehydration, stress, and lack of sleep.

        Merry Christmas.

        I hear a shuffle out in the hallway, tiny feet scuffling toward my door.  Then Dave's reprimanding voice.

        "Chris!" he hisses. "Let her sleep."

        "But Mom says we have to wait for her to open presents."

        "Then we wait, we don't wake her up."

        "But-"

        "Chris."

        "Okay," he says, deflated.  

        I roll to the side of the bed and struggle to sit up.

        "Did you hear that?" Chris cries. "She's awake, Dave, I think she's awake!"

        "Shh," Dave reminds him. "Go back downstairs, I'll check on Lane."

        The sounds of Chris scampering off bleed through the door and I wrestle with the sheets that have somehow bound my feet together.  Dave cracks open the door.

        "Come on in," I say, voice thick and grainy.  

        "How you doing?"

        "I feel like crap," I say.  

        "Well, you look beautiful," Dave says.  He sits on the edge of his own bed and touches my swollen face.  

        "I'm scared," I confess. "I wasn't last night, but I am now."

        "I'm right here for you, Lane," Dave says. "Whatever you need, I'm here."

        "What if she won't take me back in?  What if I'm homeless?"

        "You aren't homeless.  You can stay here as long as you like, so it's okay if she won't take you back in."

        "It's not okay!" I cry, standing. "She's my mother, Dave!  She's my family!"

        "Shh, Lane calm down.  You have to trust me that everything is going to be fine."

        "What, are you omniscient now?  You don't know that everything is going to be fine!"

        "Yes I do!" Dave argued, standing up. "Because we love each other and we have each other and that is what matters.  Your mom wouldn't accept it, so you left.  I realize it happened fast and that this wasn't exactly the way we thought things were going to go, but what's important is that we can be together now."

        I begin crying and he pulls me up against his chest, smoothes my gnarled hair.  The feel of him soothes me.

        "Part me still wants to be a little girl," I blubber. "Before all the fighting with mom over boys and God and music.  I wanted to be independent, but I didn't expect to become independent overnight."

        "I know, babe," he says.  The term of endearment makes me smile.  It reminds me of grade school when Rory and I made fun of old movies and threw popcorn at the women who caved into whatever their husbands wanted.

        "She has a name," Rory, already the budding feminist, would yell at the TV.

        We didn't realize back then how wonderful guys could be, how nice it was to be held and assigned cute names.

        "Dave!" an impatient Chris yells from downstairs.

        "Just a second!" Dave answers.  He smiles at me.

        After pulling my hair back and splashing cold water on my face, I clatter down the creaky steps and walk in on the Rygowski family all seated around the Christmas tree.  The whole downstairs is filled with the smell of fresh baked cinnamon rolls, coffee, and hot chocolate.  I pause on that last step, overcome with emotion as I see the four of them laughing and enjoying each other.  Mr. Rygowski catches sight of me first.

        "Lane," he says. "Merry Christmas."

        "Come on, come on," Chris cries, bouncing up and down, beckoning for me to join them.

        So I huddle beneath the tree with my new family.

*      *      *

        I drive Dave's Blazer over to the Gilmore household that afternoon, sporting a red and cream striped scarf and matching hat that Mr. and Mrs. Rygowski gave me.

        Despite the snow, Rory is waiting for me on the front porch.  Before I can even get my seatbelt off, she has the car door open.

        "I'm so sorry!" she cries, hugging me. "I've been the worst recently."

        "The worst what?" I ask, caught off guard.

        "You name it.  The worst everything.  The worst daughter, the worst best friend, the worst girlfriend, the worst ex-girlfriend, everything."

        "Calm down, it's fine," I say.

        "I never meant to shut down like that on you," Rory says, not calming down.  She pulls out of our hug and looks me in the face.  I see that she has been crying.

        "It was fine, I just wanted to help more," I tell her.

        "I just got so crazy over the whole Lindsay thing.  Let's go inside, it's freezing," Rory says, pulling me along with her.

        "The Lindsay thing?" I ask.

        "Lindsay Saint.  Dean's new girlfriend."

        "Dean is dating Lindsay Saint?" I cry. "Are you okay?  Are you jealous?  Mad?  Regretful?"

        Rory and I used to make fun of Lindsay for how perfect she was, mostly because both of us were a little jealous.  Both of us wanted to be blond.

        "Okay, we'll get to the Lindsay thing in a minute.  Tell me what in the world was going on last night," Rory says, opening the front door. "Do you want coffee?  Mom made her Christmas special, coffee with peppermint stick stirrers."

        "I heard my name!" Lorelai calls from her room. "Ouch!"

        "What happened?" Rory yells.

        "Stickers scratched me!"

        "Stickers?" I ask Rory.

        "We have a kitten."

        "Oh my gosh, since when?"

        "This morning.  I gave it to Mom for Christmas," Rory says.  She lowers her voice before saying, "I wanted her to have something to keep her company when I leave for college."

        The two of us thunder up the creaky stairs to find Lorelai on her bed taunting a beautiful white kitten with her fingers.

        "It bit me," she says without turning to us.

        "Well, you're dangling your fingers in front of its face," Rory says. "If I were Stickers I'd do the same thing."

        Lorelai turns to face us, looks right at me.  She asks, "How are you doing?"

        "Fine," I say.  My face is still puffy and I know it's obvious to her that I spent the night crying.

        Lorelai, Rory, and even Stickers look at me with expectation.  So I launch into the story.  The kiss.  The kicking out.  The drive to Dave's.  This morning around the Christmas tree. 

        "You know, if something happens with Dave and you, you're always welcome here," Rory says when I finish.  At this moment I am filled with jealousy, that she has a home to offer.  I feel tears well up in my eyes again and Lorelai beckons for me to sit beside her, which I do.  She puts her arm around me.

        "You know, Lane, your mom is just trying to do what is best for you," she tells me. "I don't think I understood that when I left home."

        "I know," I say.

        "She called here last night."

        "My mother?"

        Lorelai nods and says, "She just wanted to know where you were staying.  I told her you were at Dave's."

        "Did she freak out?" I ask, squeezing my eyes shut, not even wanting to imagine what my mother thought of me spending the night at a boy's house.

        "Actually she took it very well," Lorelai says. "I think, for whatever reason, that she assumed as much."

        Stickers weasels between Lorelai and me, places her front paws on my sweater.  Her eyes are big and blue, just like the Gilmore girls.

        "What do you think I should do?" I ask Lorelai.

        "I think only you know that, Lane," Lorelai says.  This is what makes her such a cool Mom, her willingness to stand by and hold your hand as you figure things out for yourself.

        "I need to talk to her," I slowly say. "But I want to know what I want before I do."

        "That sounds good," Lorelai says. "You know what else sounds good?"

        "What?"

        "Christmas Coffee."

        This is how I spend the rest of my Christmas, warm and cozy in the Gilmore house, Lorelai relaying anecdotes about Luke and the hotel business, Rory groaning about Paris and Chilton, and me laughing so hard and long that my stomach ached.  This is what holidays are designed to be, a break from your everyday life.  A chance to giggle and appreciate what you have.  A window of time where you don't need to worry about having a paper due, that girl who is mad at you, or your parents marital problems.

        Somewhere between the Christmas Coffee, reheated pizza, and genuine laughter, it becomes clear in my mind what I want to tell my mom; that more than anything, I want a real relationship with her.  I'm tired of lying about music, boys, and my eating habits.  And I'm tired of the impersonal things I know about her.  She sells antiques.  She goes to church.  She eats healthy.  All bits of information that anyone could know about her.  

        I want to know her as Marie.

        And I want her to know me as Lane. 

A note to my readers: Oh my goodness, I'm so so sorry about how long it has taken me to update.  There has been so much personal drama going on in my own life that I couldn't really find the strength to update Bible Kiss Bible.  Thank you so much for the e-mails I received prodding me to add the next chapter.  Without those, I honestly would have just abandoned it.  Also I apologize for how short this chapter seems.  I'm getting back in the swing of things, please be patient with me.


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